


White Picket Fence Included

by innusiq



Series: Falling in Love [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America (Movies) RPF
Genre: M/M, Pre-Slash, RPF, This is really Pre-Chris Evans/Sebastian Stan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-27
Updated: 2015-06-27
Packaged: 2018-04-06 11:24:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4219884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/innusiq/pseuds/innusiq
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A mother-son conversation prior to the invasion of the Evans clan Memorial Day Weekend 2015; Those noises in Chris’s head just don’t seem to be letting up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	White Picket Fence Included

It's probably not too healthy for a thirty-three year old man, who up until recently has been pretty self-sufficient living on his own thousands of miles away from the nest, to yearn for the days and moments he gets to return _home_ and hide away from all the demands, responsibilities and decisions that come with the territory of being an adult. What's even worse is though he has his own place out in California on the other side of the country, when it comes to thinking about being home after an extended period of filming, it's always the greens of Spring and muggy heat of Summer, the yellows, reds and ambers of Autumn and the inches upon inches of Winter white snowfall each Boston season brings that Chris tends to recognize as _home_ over the pollution and gridlock and suffocating population Los Angeles has to offer. Perhaps it's the fact most his time _is_ spent away from his place in L.A., whether it be filming and promoting his next movie, or just retreating back to Boston visiting his family, that leaves California seeming more a temporary landing pad than a place he wants to set roots down in to call _home_. And then again maybe he’s exaggerating a bit saying it isn’t healthy. Maybe this need to be back at home with his mom and dad is more a telling factor of his current emotional state of mind, seeking out the guidance he’s relied upon time and time again while growing up, and hoping he isn’t too old to call in on that guidance card one more time (and probably not the last if he’s really honest with himself).

In the last year, his filming schedule and promotional demands, not just with Marvel but his own first go at film directing, have kept Chris more than a little busy and away from California leaving him more emotionally connected to Boston, what with most his family still living in the same town he grew up in, and additionally his parents still occupying the same house containing the ear marked kitchen doorframe marking the growth spurts of the Evans children and now grandchildren. It may be clichéd to say _home is where the heart is_ , but it's a sentiment Chris can't really argue against, but then it _is_ a sentiment he's been questioning as of late with the upcoming reentrance of a certain Romanian co-star who, while Sebastian hasn't truly ever been too far from his mind (or heart), Chris _has_ worked extremely hard at keeping a respective distance from the other man because otherwise… otherwise he might ruin everything else he’s worked really hard at creating: a name for himself, a career that doesn’t leave him wondering where the next project is coming from, the friendships he’s gained with each and every opportunity he’s been given, and the life in general Chris has come to enjoy; and yet there are some days he still finds himself not one hundred percent _happy_ in that life he believes to enjoy so much. Perhaps true happiness is a small sacrifice in the grand scheme of the big picture of life he has to give up. He has his family, his sisters, his brother, his niece and nephews, and Mom and Dad. It’s not like he can have it all: a picture perfect life with a successful career, being married to the love of his life, two point three kids and a dog. There may be moments he finds something lacking outside his career and personal life, but it’s a small speck of wanting that usually gets overshadowed while he’s working, which has been constant as of late. It’s not that big of a deal, right? He’s made it this far without settling down, what’s another thirty or sixty years?

Chris takes a deep breath of the fresh cut grass air, closing his eyes and leaning back, supporting himself on his hands where he sits on the back stoop of his parent's house, looking out over the backyard. It's been a long and tiring two weeks in Atlanta, a few more and then some to come before moving onto the next shooting location, and while it's been satisfying work, it's always satisfying and exciting to the point there are moments he still needs to pinch himself to prove it's all real, being an actor still has moments where it isn't all it's cracked up to be. Moments where his life ends up not being his own because other people deem his life a part of their own and seeing it more an obligation for him to be open about every aspect of his private life. Moments where he's followed by prying camera eyes and journalist trying to make a name for themselves by being the first to divulge some sort of secret truth about his private life before the mainstream garners on and runs with the story of his next faux pas (because come on, he's only human and far from perfect and will continue to fuck up and make mistake after mistake, time and again, just like your average Joe on the street), or the supposed relationship he's possibly starting (which he doesn't even really have time for in the first place and even if he did, and allowed himself to pursue the person his heart is screaming at him to get with the program already, the life he's come to rely upon - his living - could possibly end abruptly because of the damn paparazzi and their need to know every little detail and the judgmental journalists who will kick a downed puppy not just because it's fun but because it's _their right_ , damn the consequences), or whatever else of him they seem to think they have a right to but don't. Chris sighs heavily, eyes closing as he turns his face up to the sun, soaking in the warmth, wanting for a moment to maybe have a re-do of his life, to get back what's been taken away without him even realizing before it was too late. Wanting, _God_ , he doesn't even know what he wants, or more precisely what he's prepared to want without possibly fucking everything else in his life up from his friendships to his career to God only knows what else there is to fuck up. He’s a thirty-three year old man on the cusp of celebrating another year of life, and logically he knows all the _what ifs_ don’t truly matter, as long as he’s happy in the end. Isn’t that what his therapist is always reminding him? Isn’t that what his own mother has said? _Chris, I don’t care what you choose to do with your life. All I care about is_ you _being_ happy _. All the other worries in life are just obstacles to reaching that happiness._

The back door opening and closing not so quietly behind Chris derails his spiraling thoughts. When he leans his head back a bit more and squints one eye open, he catches sight of his mom’s worried face, which in retrospect isn’t much a surprise. People always talk about mother’s having a sixth sense about their children, and if that’s a talent every mother has, his mother definitely has a tenth sense when it comes to her own children, because half the time she’s aware there’s a problem before her own children do, and if that’s not creepy, it’s at least a godsend because he could use a little bit of that motherly insight right about now. She settles next to him quietly, a calming presence against the whirlwind and erratic buzzing noise in his head that no matter how often he tries to shush, it never truly quiets down. He’s been home a full day and still, there is no stopping the constant questions and second-guessing, and denial he’s left unchecked for far too long. His brother is set to arrive any time now, and his sisters and the kids soon after, all hunkering down for the long weekend, and he knows he needs to get his head together, or at least get himself to a place where he can enjoy his family’s company and not be a downer to what little time he has before heading back down to Atlanta, but it’s been difficult getting there on his own.

He leans forward, elbows on knees as he scrubs his hands through his hair saying, “God, I am so lost.”

“Sweetie, I knew that in the fall when you basically moved in here,” she says, and when he turns his head to meet her eyes they look sadly back at him. “What’s wrong, Baby?”

“I don’t know… Nothing… Not really, but… Everything…” He rambles, resting his head on his arms over his knees, eyes on his mom. “Maybe it’s nothing. Maybe I’m just tired.”

“Or maybe you’re just avoiding,” she says, bumping shoulders with him. “This isn’t like you, Chris, or at least not the _you_ I’ve seen you become? Does this have anything to do with the movie?”

“No, no the movie’s going fine… great really, it’s early but it’s… great, really…” he replies, he thinks, honestly. 

“Hmmm, then why don’t I believe that?” His mother asks, looping her arm through his and resting her cheek against his shoulder. “Baby, what is this?”

Chris takes a deep breath, releasing it slowly and places his hand over hers. “It’s complicated.”

“Then uncomplicated it,” she says, jostling his arm and teasingly smiling. “Talk to me, what is all this moping about?”

“I’m not moping,” he argues (denies).

“Well, if this isn’t moping, then the only other thing it can be is pining,” she returns and laughs as he feels his cheeks flush unexpectedly. “Oh, Sweetie, you must have it bad,” she adds, hand brushing the hair off his forehead.

“You don’t know the half of it,” Chris responds, adjusting his sights over the backyard again to get his thoughts straight before continuing.

“Chris, whoever she is, it can’t really be all that bad.”

“And what if it’s not a _she_?” He asks, meeting his mother’s eyes again and easily catching their startled widening and the quiet intake a breath she can’t hide, but bless her heart she recovers quickly.

“Okay, she or he, it doesn’t really matter,” she restates, because she is the most supportive parent any kid would be lucky to have. “It can’t be as bad as you are making it out to be, right?”

“But what if it changes everything? I keep thinking it over, the pros… the cons… logically, my brain is telling me to grow up, be an adult and let it go, that this is just a phase or a fleeting attraction that given time will go away, and then everything will go back to the way it was before he… just before, but…” Chris’s thoughts trail off, a lump forming in this throat just thinking about his life without Sebastian in it.

“But what?”

“It’s just… I can’t even imagine that life,” he admits honestly for the first time. “When I try… it’s like my very breath leaves me, and I thought, maybe, between the last movie and this that I’d get it out of my system. That the time away would change things, but he’s hitting set in the next couple days and I realized it just… hasn’t.”

His mother’s arms are around him now, and it’s only then Chris realizes his breath has been hitching, and it isn’t until her hug registers that he can breath clearly again. They stay like that for a while, Chris leaning into this mother’s arms, and she offering the comfort he hasn’t needed since the first time he left the house on his way out to Hollywood _for good_ he’d said, but has never really taken root to make it a permanent stay.

“Sweetie, I want you to listen to me, okay?” She begins, pulling way to meet his eyes again. “First, finding the person you love…”

“Mom, I never said l…”

“Christopher Robert Evans,” she states sternly. “It is my turn to talk, and your turn to listen, capisce? That means I say the words, and your ears listen, got it?”

Chris nods, this mouth quirking at the side, and doesn’t speak another word.

“As I was saying, finding the person you love isn’t a matter of choice. If you are letting your head tell you what your heart needs, then you are probably going about it all wrong. You can’t make a list of pros and cons like you’re choosing between an occupation, or what college to attend or a new car. You can’t _make_ your heart love logically. Love… it just is. Love isn’t something you can plan, or choose, or put off, no matter how hard you try. And love is definitely _not_ logical. Finding that missing piece, it can be like a needle in a haystack, you can’t look for it, it’s just accidentally found, but what an amazing find it is. You talk about all that noise in your head… did you ever stop to think that sometimes it’s so noisy because you are trying to ignore what your heart wants? Maybe, if you listened to this,” and she pauses here, to press her hand over his chest, “the noises in your head might quiet down enough for you to truly listen with your heart.”

“Mo-om,” Chris, admittedly whines, burying his head in hands. “It’s not that easy…”

“Love never is,” she unhelpfully agrees. “At first, but it gets easier. And yes, it’s scary too, but if you don’t believe in the end it’s worth it, then you aren’t trying hard enough.”

“But what if…”

“ _And_ ,” she continues, cutting him off. “If you let all the what ifs rule your heart, then you are never going to be happy.”

Chris takes a deep breath and releases it slowly, taking in his mom’s wisdom, organizing, letting the words settle. It’s not like he’s going to do anything about him and Sebastian this weekend, or in the next week, but before Sebastian hits the Atlanta set, he is going to have to muster up the courage and _find_ the words to not only confront his friend and costar about his feelings, but also prepare for the possibility of a rejection he can’t even begin to think about facing.

“Shhhhhhh,” he hears his mom hush next to him, a quiet chuckle underneath. “Even I can hear your head noises. Sebastian’s a good kid and just like you, he has a good heart. Trust your heart. Trust _his_ heart. I have faith you’ll figure it out, and maybe the next time you come home for a visit, you might not be coming home alone.”

She winks at him, his startle realizing she’s guessed who this has been about all along, and he can’t help thinking how amazing this woman is, and how lucky he is he gets to call her _Mom_. “How do you do it?”

His mom smiles, shaking her head, and asks, “Do what?”

“Be this amazing person and have all the answers when I need them, and just… _know_?”

She laughs again, giving him a hug, and replies when she pulls back, “I’ve lived and I’ve loved. It’s as simple as that.”

His mom places a kiss on his forehead before rising from the stoop. “Come on, help your mother with lunch before Scott and the girls get here, because I know once the kids set their eyes on you, getting any _work_ out of you will be a lost cause.”

Chris stands as well, and pulls his mom into a tight hug, holding onto her for longer than planned, but she doesn’t push the moment along, giving him the time and comfort he’s seeking, _needs_ , before the chaos that surrounds any Evans gathering commences. 

“Thanks, Mom,” Chris thanks sincerely as they part, because he realizes he doesn’t say it nearly as often as he should, and follows her into the house thinking maybe, just maybe, he’ll be lucky enough to have it all, white picket fence included.


End file.
